He Isn't Coming Back
by wint0green
Summary: It has been three days since Gamzee killed Nepeta and Equius and all he has done is stay with Karkat. That doesn't mean he'll stay forever, though. Sadstuck. Rated T for cursing; come on, it's Homestuck.


He wakes you by making the human bed shift under him as he gets up. You slowly open your sleep-weighted eyes and turn to him sitting hunched over on the edge. You strain to see in the dark room, the world around you in somewhat of a grayscale.

He turns his head so you can perfectly see his profile. He is bleeding again; he must have been picking at the new scabs. It was only three days ago that you and your group had come across him, covered in olive and indigo blood. His eyes had been a dangerous deep red, his scratches oozing out his bright dark purple blood, and his facepaint had been smudged and smeared across his face. You had managed to calm him down if just a bit, and you have been spending your time watching over him in your room on the meteor.

"Gamzee…" Your voice is raspy with sleep, and you rub your eyes with one hand, sitting up. "Stop it. Your scratches can't get infecte-"

"AND WHAT IF THEY MOTHERFUCKING DO?!" His voice tears through your sentence, snapping your eyes open and your head to look at him. You stare at him in fear and surprise before he speaks again, turning to you.

"CAN'T TALK MOTHERFUCKER? WELL YOU BETTER MOTHERFUCKING GET OUT OF IT RIGHT NOW OR I'LL BE HAVING YOUR NUTRITION SACK FOR BREAKFAST."

He backs off just a bit, leaning his head down just enough do you can't see his face but his bright red eyes bore into your own.

"Y-y-you… G-Gam… Zee…" You back up away from him, the covers trapping your legs in their folds. You want to pull them out to relieve the heat, but you're afraid that one small, incorrect movement could get you killed.

"That all you can motherfucking say, my punchline-blooded brother? You too motherfuckin' afraid to face your own matesprit?" He smiles widely, his insane-looking eyes adding to the menacing grin. His sharp, yellowing teeth are showing and you can't help but think of how quick they could tear through flesh.

"No," you say quickly, willing your voice not to waver. You know you have to be strong, or at least act like it, when he gets like this. You can't back down against his highblood nature. He'll get worse if that happens. Sometimes you wonder why you pity a fucking subjugglator. He's sure to cull you one day, you being a mutant and all. There's just not enough sopor.

"What?" he says, leaning forward. "I couldn't motherfuckin' hear ya, bro." The sound of his voice has not changed from its angry growl.

"I said fucking no, Gamzee. I am not fucking afraid of you." Lies.

"Good." He turns back around and you see him drag his hand back up to his face again, continuing to painfully peel away the dull purple scabs from his deep cuts.

You are still sitting up, watching him destroy his features further, and feel a pang of sadness and guilt in your chest.

He isn't coming back.

The Gamzee you knew before is never coming back.

Even if you portion the rest of the slime and feed it to him and he returns to how he was before, there will always be the sliver of the Grand Highblood controlling him.

You move towards him and slowly wrap your arms around his protruding rib cage from behind, turning your head to rest your cheek on his back, and close your eyes.

He stops moving and waits a moment before prying your arms from him, standing up. You stare up at him, confused, and he starts walking to the door. You freeze.

No.

Fucking no.

You can't let him do this.

More of your friends will die. You'll lose him. You won't be able to take care of him now. He'll crawl through the vents for an eternity. You'll lose him. You'll never find him again. You'll lose him. You'll lose him.

These thoughts bounce around in your thinkpan for a minute before your legs finally heed the command to move and you run across the room to him, stepping in front of him and blocking the door.

"Gamzee! W-what the fuck do you think you're doing?!" You shout, gritting your teeth. You desperately try to size yourself up to him, an instinct all trolls have when it comes to things like this. You know you aren't intimidating at all though; he has always towered over you and no matter how hard you try, it won't happen. "I'm not going to let you fucking leave!"

Gamzee says nothing. He stays completely still in the dark of the room, his eyes lighting it up if only the tiniest bit. You stay in your position, looking straight at him, trying not to break under his terrifying gaze.

"I wish I could stay here, Karkat," he grumbles out, obviously trying not to shove you to the side and walk straight out of the door. It's been a while since he's called you by your full name and it scares you half to death every time he does. "But a motherfucker can't up and go all motherfuckin' black on his matesprit, now can he?"

You freeze up at this and you realize what he means. He knows he'll hurt you. He knows that if he can't get the stupid fucking voices under control he'll kill you.

"I-I fucking k-know that, Gamzee," you stutter out, finally starting to crack under him. "B-but you can't j-just fucking walk o-out on them e-either…"

He seems to calm down the tiniest bit at this. However, his eyes stay the same glowing red they started out with. You see him slowly blink and grab your hand. You flinch at first, not sure whether to trust him quite yet or not. The only thing he does, though, is gently run your fingers along the wet outlines of his cuts. You take on a worried expression, ripping your hand from his and quickly hugging him. You don't let go for the world, and you stagger backwards onto the bed, laying him down on the pillows that lay against the headboard while you sit at the edge of the bed staring at him.

You remember when you two would do this in the middle of the day. Just sit and talk about whatever came to your thinkpans. Back when he was just a juggalo stoner. When he was calm and sweet and not fucking batshit crazy.

"Can you calm the fuck down?" you say gently, putting your hand over his. "Nobody wants to fucking see you go insane again…" You look to the side, remembering how twisted and mangled Nepeta's body had been.

Gamzee says nothing and continues to stare at you. This angers and worries you. Usually he would be the one screaming his head off, trying to drown out the voices in his head. That was what he tried to do when they got too loud.

You bear your teeth and grip his hand tightly. "Gamzee," you growl out, leaning forward. He stays completely still, but before you can say anything, you have been pushed down, pinned against the mattress with his claws digging into your wrists. They draw blood, and you yelp as the full set of 10 break open your gray skin.

"Motherfucking mutant thinkin' he can all up and tell me what to do. Calm the fuck down? I WILL CALM DOWN ONCE I HAVE CULLED EVERY MOTHERFUCKIN' WORTHLESS LOWBLOOD ON THIS MOTHERFUCKIN' METEOR!" He bears his teeth above you, staring, his dark purple irises a wide contrast to the red around them. You hiss, lifting your head off of the mattress to close closer to his face. He brings his hand up and back down hard against the left side of your face, leaving a large, stinging red mark as you whimper in pain. He freezes at the noise.

To your surprise, he backs off of you immediately and stares in fear at his yellow claws that are tipped with your candy red blood. He brings his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them.

You sit up, holding the side of your face where he hit you in your left hand. You stare at him, brows furrowed."

"Gamzee, I-"

"Stop talkin', motherfucker."

He cuts you off, voice deep and quiet.

"This is why I have to motherfuckin' leave," he grumbles out, lifting his head up to look at you, translucent purple tears slowly running down his no longer painted cheeks. "Because I'll motherfuckin' hurt ya."

You know this is true, but you can't let him think that. You have to calm him down and he has to know that you trust him. Even though you don't trust him all the way anymore.

You slowly move towards him, lifting his face closer to yours. You furrow your brows and stare into his now light orange eyes.

"No, Gamzee," you order, "I am not going to let you leave…. You… You just need… To get better…"

You move to his side, in your previous position on the bed, and tell him to move so he is facing you. For the next few minutes, you gently stroke the tears from his face, shooshing him and hugging him and hanging on to this small sliver of the old Gamzee for dear life. You eventually fall asleep hanging on to him, and you feel him drift off with you, and you're happy.

But in the morning he is gone.

The only thing left is a cold, empty space on the bed where you wrapped your arms around him the night before.

He isn't coming back.

The Gamzee you knew is never coming back.


End file.
